


This Charming Man

by frostysunflowers



Series: Ain't No Mountain High Enough [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark at MIT, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, MIT Era, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Reminiscing, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Whump, but he's rhodey's idiot, tony is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: ''Mister Staaaark,'' Peter moaned, flapping a hand in the man’s direction. ''You’re ruining story time.''''Alright, alright,'' Tony laughed, eyes sparkling warmly at the kid, ''but that homework gets done straight after dinner, capiche?''Peter saluted him before resettling his chin on his palms. ''So, you guys met in college, right?''''Yeah,'' Rhodey nodded, leaning against the counter and folding his arms, ''but not in the way you probably think…''





	This Charming Man

**Author's Note:**

> I have been DYING to do a Tony and Rhodey story for ages now so here it is! This is an in the works series so get ready for 80's throwbacks and a whole dose of fluff guys, cos you know I can't help myself <3
> 
> Just a heads up this fic does feature a drunk underage Tony, nothing major but just wanted to put it out there. 
> 
> Huge thanks to blondsak and seekrest for being my sounding boards on this one, I know you've been waiting for this hahaha. 
> 
> Title taken from the song of the same name by The Smiths.
> 
> Enjoy!

''Would you quit your grousing, honeybear, and just get over here and try this?''

''Not with that attitude I won’t.''

''Uh, I don’t have attitude, thank you. You’re just being unfair.''

''And _there_ it is, the classic Tony Stark whinging that has had me questioning why I’m still friends with you.''

''Please. If anything it’s _ me _who should be marvelling at how I’m still friends with – ''

''Mister Stark?''

Tony and Rhodey, standing chest to chest in the kitchen and both clutching wooden spoons stained in tomato sauce, turned to look at the kid sitting at the breakfast bar. Textbooks covered the surface in front of him but judging from the lack of writing on the sheets of paper accompanying them, Peter had long since lost interest in his studies. Instead, his attention was fixed on the two older men, watching them with a smile on his lips.

''What is it, kid?'' Tony asked, elbowing Rhodey in the ribs before turning back to the simmering pot of sauce on the stove. It was an old family recipe from his mother’s side; the only thing Tony could actually cook without ruining it.

''I was just wondering, uh,'' Peter’s said curiously, tapping his pencil on the paper in front of him, ''how _ did _you two become friends?''

There was a pause before Rhodey chuckled, looking over with a grin at a fondly smirking Tony.

''Oh, well, _ that’s _a story,'' Rhodey hummed as he prodded Tony in the side with the clean end of his spoon, barely moving out of the way in time as Tony grabbed a cloth and snapped it at him.

''It’s only a story because you turn into a drama,'' Tony said and threw the cloth at him. ''I always come off looking terrible in any story you tell.''

He turned to Peter. ''Not a word that comes out of his mouth is credible, Underoos,'' he warned. ''Don’t listen to anything he says.''

Peter looked up at Rhodey. ''Does it involve Mister Stark doing something stupid?''

Rhodey smirked. ''What do you think?''

Peter shrugged apologetically at Tony who slapped a hand against his chest in mock hurt. ''Sorry, Mister Stark, this is something I just have to know,'' he insisted and dropped his pencil onto the paper, letting his shoulders relax and resting his chin on his hands as he waited for the story.

''Keep it clean, sourpatch,'' Tony warned, jabbing a finger at Rhodey. ''Last thing we need is an impressionable spider-baby getting ideas.''

''Says the man who gave said impressionable spider-baby a multi-million dollar suit to fight crime in.''

Tony blinked at him. ''I hate you.''

Rhodey snorted, dropping his spoon onto the counter. ''I know.''

''Mister Staaaark,'' Peter moaned, flapping a hand in the man’s direction. ''You’re ruining story time.''

''Alright, alright,'' Tony laughed, eyes sparkling warmly at the kid, ''but that homework gets done straight after dinner, capiche?''

Peter saluted him before resettling his chin on his palms. ''So, you guys met in college, right?''

''Yeah,'' Rhodey nodded, leaning against the counter and folding his arms, ''but not in the way you probably think…''

* * *

Jim stepped through the door with a weary sigh, shrugging off his jacket to toss it over the back of his desk chair. Only a week into his second year and he already wanted to crawl into bed and never come back out. The cursory glance he threw around the room turned into a pointed stare as he noticed the person sprawled on the usually unoccupied bed against the right wall.

It was a kid.

A kid with floppy dark hair, intense eyes and the beginnings of a rather pathetic goatee on his young face. He was staring up at the ceiling and tossing a rubber ball up and down with his left hand. He hadn’t looked up when Jim entered the room and didn’t seem to feel bothered by the new presence in the room. His eyes stayed trained on the ball as he threw it lazily up again. 

''Uh…'' Jim floundered, not quite sure if he should be more angry or surprised.

''About time you got here,'' the kid said, tucking the ball into his pocket and rolling up to sit with his legs crossed. ''I was coming up with all sorts of outlandish theories about what you’d look like.''

He gestured to the pin board above Jim’s bed. It was a mess of pictures and articles featuring various aircraft and military paraphernalia. There were a few medals and some magazine cuttings of Brooke Shields and Daryl Hannah hanging off the edges.

''What were you expecting?'' Jim asked slowly, becoming more irritatingly dumbfounded by the second.

The kid shrugged. ''Well, a Harrison Ford wannabe if I was gonna get lucky,'' he smiled leeringly, ''but this is much better.''

Jim narrowed his eyes, suddenly very aware that he was alone in his room with a kid who couldn’t be more than fifteen years old. ''Right. And who the hell are you exactly?''

''Your new roommate.''

Jim snorted. ''Seriously, kid, who are you here visiting? You kinda look like Betty from 4C, is it her? She your sister?''

The kid squinted at him before rolling his eyes. ''Jeez, you’re quite the welcome committee, aren’t you, sourpatch?''

He gestured over to the foot of the bed where a large suitcase and two boxes sat in a haphazard pile. ''That look like I’m just visiting to you?''

Jim felt an odd kind of dismay rising up within him. Some hot, heavy kind of realisation that had him practically glaring at the kid in disbelief.

''No,'' Jim said immediately, waving his hands with a stunted laugh. ''Uh, hell no, that is not happening.''

Who in their right mind would let a kid come here? A kid who should definitely still be in high school; a kid who couldn’t look more out of place if he tried with his baby face and small stature. He’d get eaten alive before he even set foot in a classroom.

''Look, as fun as this is,'' the kid said with a sniff, cheeks going slightly pink, ''I’ve been waiting here to meet you ‘cause I thought it would be the _ polite _ thing to do,'' his lips curled into a sneer as he stood up, ''but I’m bored now. See ya.''

Jim watched him walk to the door. ''Wait, where are you going?''

''To find better company!'' was the snappy reply before the door slammed shut. Jim stared at it for a minute before flopping back onto his own bed, letting out a long whistle of air.

What the hell?

Jim didn’t see the kid for the rest of the afternoon. He had to admit that as the hour grew later and the skies turned dark outside the window, he was a bit worried. He still had no back story about how or why the kid was there, and a quick chat with the other residents of his dorm didn’t provide him with any answers either.

He half considered actually going to look for the kid when Chloe from downstairs stuck her head through the door to shout out a reminder about the party happening in one of the upperclassmen suites on the top floor. Jim didn’t want to even think about what measures had been taken to convince Henry, the RA for their building, to let them go ahead with that.

''There’s enough drink for everybody!'' she yelled to a series of jubilant cheering. ''See y’all there!''

''C’mon, Jim,'' Billy from next door wrapped a friendly arm around Jim's shoulder as he emerged from his room, ''let’s go for some pizza to line our stomachs, yeah?''

Jim smiled tightly, grateful for the distraction but unable to shift the knot in his stomach that seemed to pull tighter and tighter with every minute. He didn’t need this kind of worry; he had his own damn problems to deal with, and none of them needed shoving aside to make space for one more, especially when it involved some bratty kid. 

So he pushed all thoughts of the kid out of his mind just enough to be able to enjoy a few slices of pepperoni at a local diner off campus before rushing back to change his shirt and slap some cologne on. He joined the winding snake of people heading upstairs and soon found himself in a world of noise.

The party wasn’t so much of a party but more of an absolute chaotic mess of just about every college cliché imaginable. In each corner, couples were making out like their very lives depended on it; all manner of alcohol was being poured into red solo cups and gulped with haste whilst people danced terribly and provocatively to the obscenely loud music that seemed to reverberate right through the floor. 

Someone pushed a cup of beer into Jim’s hand and steered him into a huddle of people talking about their first week back and if anybody had been to the movies to see Back to the Future during the summer break. He felt himself loosen up a little, shoulders unclenching and a merry buzz tickling his senses as he laughed along with the others, letting Sandy Benton from 2A lean on him as he sat on the arm of one of the couches.

He was halfway through his third beer and shuffling his way through towards the drinks table to get Sandy another vodka and soda when he overheard a name that immediately grabbed his attention.

''Did you hear that Howard Stark’s kid is here?''

''Wait – _ the _Howard Stark?''

Jim paused, all thoughts of trying to steal at least a kiss from Sandy gone out of his mind.

''Isn’t his kid in high school?''

''Yeah but he’s like, a genius, I mean super crazy style genius, so they skipped him ahead.''

''You’re full of shit, they don't just skip kids ahead – ''

Jim took a hearty swig from his cup, smacking his lips against the bubbles, trying to hold on to his happy buzz that was rapidly dwindling with every word that he earwigged.

''I heard that Howard Stark donated a shit ton of cash to the science department so that his kid would get stuffed in with one of the sophomores. Meant to keep him out of trouble or something like that.''

''Bullshit!''

''No, man, I’m telling you – ''

Jim drifted away from the conversation, clutching his cup so hard that it began to split and leak a sticky trail of beer across his knuckles.

There was no way…no possible way…

A guy with unruly blonde hair burst out from the kitchen.

''FIGHT!!''

Jim cursed as the room rapidly turned into a sea of bodies, jostling him from side to side as they scrambled towards the source of the commotion.

''Hey, it’s that kid!''

''Hit him, Craig! Kick his head in!''

Jim dropped his cup and hurried towards the kitchen, dread prickling his skin as he fought his way through the jeering crowd. The distinct sound of fists smacking against skin and furious swearing could be heard over the pulse of the music and goading chants, and the dread skipping up Jim’s spine turned into a fuzzy anger as he finally broke through.

There was the kid, exchanging punches with Craig from 3F while The Smiths played as the most unlikely of backing tracks. His eyes were blazing with fury, lips pulled back in a snarl and his nose bleeding heavily into his mouth. Craig’s shirt was ripped and there was a large red mark beside his left eye. He was breathing raggedly and grinning darkly at the kid, like he was enjoying every moment.

There was a pause before the kid swung for Craig again, arm coming around in a wide arc that missed its landing by an inch, giving way for Craig to barrel into him, pinning him up against the fridge and sinking a fist straight into his stomach. The kid doubled over with a groan but came back for another swing, only to have his arm seized by Jack, one of the quarterbacks from the football team. Another boy rushed forward to grab the other arm and they both cackled loudly as they yelled for Craig to hit him again. The chanting from the onlookers immediately reached an unbearable pitch as they cheered for more, hooting their delight and exclaiming in fake sympathy as Craig landed a blow right to the kid’s chin, snapping his head back.

The flame of anger in Jim’s chest flared into a full-blown rage and before he could even think about it, he stepped forward and seized Craig by his jacket. With a flick of his wrist, Jim spun the guy round and grabbed him by the collar.

''The hell are you doing, man?'' Jim demanded, voice rising over the sudden hush of the crowd. Even the music seemed quieter somehow. ''He’s just a kid.''

''The fuck do you think you are, Rhodes?'' Craig snapped, twisting in his grip. ''The little shit needs teaching a lesson.''

''Oh, and you think beating the crap out of him is the way to do that, huh?'' Jim argued, giving Craig a shake. ''You that much of a dumbass that you wanna get yourself arrested for beating a kid half to death?''

''Fuck off, asshole,'' Jack called, grabbing a hunk of the kid’s hair as he tried to elbow his way free. ''This little punk is Tony Stark, Howard Stark’s kid, just another jumped up little rich brat. He came in here shooting his mouth off so he’s getting what he deserves.''

Jim looked at the kid. His chest was heaving and the blood from his nose was now dripping onto his shirt. One of his eyes was starting to swell shut and sweat was clinging to his skin. He looked drunk, hurt, young.

Scared.

Jim turned back to Craig and pulled him close so that their noses were almost touching.

''You don’t come near him again, you understand?''

Craig sneered at him. ''Why, what the hell are you gonna do about it?''

''Try me.''

Perhaps it was the flatness of his voice that did it, or the tightening of his fingers so that his nails just pinched the skin of Craig’s neck; or maybe it was the unblinking stare that Jim levelled him with that sent a flash of fear passing through Craig’s blue eyes. Whatever it was, Jim was beyond done with the whole thing.

With a derisive snort, Jim shoved Craig aside and moved towards the kid – towards Tony. His eyes flickered between Jack and the other guy and whatever they saw on his face had them letting Tony go with nothing but a scowl and a roll of the eyes. Jim stepped forward to catch Tony just in time, knees buckling as the kid sank into his arms.

The quietness surrounding them suddenly seemed even louder. Jim could feel so many pairs of eyes on him, judging him, cataloguing him in some way or another. Jim had been going to MIT for over a year, had known most of these people since the very first day, and he didn’t need to look around to know that in one single moment, he’d earned himself a mark on his reputation that would definitely linger for a long while.

But as he hoisted the bleeding kid up against his side and felt a hand clutch weakly at the back of his jacket, he found that he didn’t care.

The crowd parted without a word being said, allowing Jim to drag a groaning Tony through and out into the hallway. He didn’t even spare Sandy more than a brief glance as he passed her. They staggered towards the elevator and Jim propped Tony up against the wall as he pressed the button to call it down. Tony peered up at him blearily.

''How much did you have to drink?'' Jim asked.

Tony waved a hand loosely in the air and stuck out his tongue. It was stained a bright, garish green that made Jim wince.

''Jello shots, huh?''

Tony nodded and then winced, a hand coming up to poke at his still bleeding nose before Jim batted it away.

''What the hell were you doing fighting that asshole for anyway?''

Tony’s head lolled back against the wall and he didn't answer. Jim sighed and manhandled him towards the opening doors of the elevator. He smacked the button for their floor and grabbed Tony’s arm to lift it over his shoulders, crouching down to accommodate for the size difference.

''You know you’ve made your life here infinitely harder by doing that, right?''

''He star’ed it,’’ Tony grumbled, blood bubbling wetly on his lips. ‘’W’s bein’ a creepy dick.''

''A creepy dick?''

''Mmhmm,'' Tony hummed, pressing his forehead into Jim’s bicep. ''Pr’tty girl, said no, wouldn’t listen,'' he flailed a bruised hand in front of Jim’s face, ''smacked ‘im.''

Jim stared down at him. Of all the reasons he’d been expecting, that definitely wasn’t one of them.

''You were…wow,'' he breathed, looking up at the ceiling, quite unable to comprehend just what he was dealing with.

''Jus’ wan’ed to make friends,'' Tony hiccupped.

Jim found himself automatically tightening his hold, effectively squeezing Tony into his side. A protectiveness washed over him and he wanted to roll his eyes at the feeling, kick it to the curb along with this mess of a kid and leave it there.

But as Tony nuzzled into his shoulder, smearing blood across his jacket, Jim knew that he wasn’t going to do that.

Instead, he bundled Tony out of the elevator and into the dorm, stopping by the bathroom to grab a wet cloth and some tissues, and dragged him into their room.

''Oooo s’this my bed?'' Tony said shrilly, pushing away from Jim to stagger towards the bed against the left wall – the bed that belonged to Jim.

''Hey, no, hey,'' Jim tugged at him, dropping tissues on the floor as he tried to wrestle Tony off the blankets, ''that’s my bed, not yours.''

Tony gave him a half-hearted kick to the thigh and flopped onto his back, sniffing wetly. His entire goatee and chin was stained red, as were his lips, and the shirt he was wearing was likely beyond saving at that point. He coughed wetly and swiped his sleeve under his nose before letting out a yowl of pain.

''M’nose!''

Jim groaned and dropped the remaining tissues onto the bedside table before sitting down. Without much gentleness, he yanked Tony into a sitting position and gripped the edges of his chin so that he could get a good enough angle to clean his face.

''Wha’ you doin’?'' Tony asked, weakly pushing at him with one hand.

''Giving you a makeover,'' Jim snapped, grimacing as he wiped away the blood to reveal more bruising just under Tony’s nose. ''Should probably put ice on that.''

''Don’t wan’ ice,'' Tony grumbled as he leaned into Jim’s touch, peering at him through his one good eye. ''Heyyyy, you’re my roomma’e!''

''Unfortunately,'' Jim sighed, swiping away the last of the blood and tossing the cloth into the laundry hamper at the end of his bed. He watched Tony tip back onto the covers, making the mattress bounce gently. ''You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?''

Jim knew of the Stark Family; it was hard not to considering how Stark Industries was one of the biggest company names in the world. Not to mention Howard Stark himself and his history of working alongside Captain America during the war among other things.

He’d heard about Tony too. Brief mentions of the boy genius who would one day inherit Howard’s empire and legacy; the odd article here and there about the kid who would one day change the world of technology into something that even Howard couldn’t imagine.

Looking down at the kid sprawled out beside him, Jim couldn’t quite believe it was the same person. Bloodied, bruised and drunk as hell, Tony Stark was about as far away from boy wonder as somebody could get.

However, as Tony cracked open his eye and gazed at Jim with such a startling intensity, Jim wondered if maybe there was more to this kid than he was letting on.

''Has anyone ‘ver told you tha’ you look like a plat’pus?'' Tony slurred, grinning up at him with delight. ''Cause y’do.''

Jim sighed even as he felt his lips twitch into a smile. ''Is that supposed to be a compliment?''

Tony shrugged. ''I like plat’puses.''

''Of course you do,'' Jim said, shifting Tony over with a push so that he could stretch out next to him, back to the headboard and ankles crossed. ''As much as you like getting yourself beaten to a pulp and drinking way too many lime jello shots?''

Tony moaned at the mention of the jello, lifting a hand to paw weakly at Jim’s chest. ''St’p being mean t’me.''

Jim chuckled. ''If you think this is mean, wait until the morning when you wake up with what is no doubt going to be the mother of hangovers.''

Tony stuck his green tongue out at him. ''Y'suck.''

''Yeah,'' Jim said with an easy shrug, ''but what are you gonna do?''

Tony peered blearily at him. ''Keep you.''

He said it such ease, such finality that left no room for an argument, as though he wouldn’t even accept any protest that Jim might have. A silence, slightly awkward but not completely uncomfortable, filled the air around them as they looked at each other, a soundless conversation taking place in their eyes. Jim could see the vulnerability on Tony's face, the sharpness from before dulled into something softer, gentle, hopeful.

''Well,'' Jim cleared his throat and gave Tony a tight smile, feeling humbled and embarrassed at the same time, ''I guess I’m stuck with you then.''

''Mm,'' Tony replied sleepily, lifting a hand to pat Jim’s fingers clumsily before rolling onto his side. ''Wha’s your name ‘gain?''

''James. James Rhodes, but most people call me Jim.''

Tony looked over his shoulder to study him sleepily, the brown of his one open eye barely visible behind his lowered lashes.

''Jamesssss Rhodessss,'' he garbled before frowning. ''T’many sounds.''

Jim resisted the urge to elbow him. ''It’s the only name I got, kid.''

Tony smiled before settling back down, rubbing his face into the pillow with a contented sigh.

''G’night, Rhodey.''

Jim felt something unravel in his chest. ''Rhodey, huh?''

Tony nodded. ''Suits you,'' he mumbled, voice trailing off into a sluggish murmur.

Jim looked at him; this strange, funny kid with no self-preservation and a terrible goatee. 

Jim liked him. Sure, he was a pain in the ass and clearly a magnet for trouble, but there was something about him, something genuine and warm and timidly soft and so unlike what Jim ever pictured a Stark to be. It was something that Jim found himself gravitating to. He had friends, buddies to pal around and shoot the breeze with, or at least he had done until the events of that evening, but somehow, the small spark that had suddenly come to life between him and Tony felt different.

It felt better.

''Rhodey…'' Jim rolled the name around in his mind a few times, feeling his cheeks stretch with a smile. ''Huh,’’ he said as he tilted his head back against the headboard, knowing that he didn’t have a chance in hell of moving without disturbing Tony, ''not bad.''

Jim remained next to Tony for the rest of the night, only leaving his side when Tony woke up an hour later to hurl the entire contents of his stomach all over the floor, and even then it was to only grab the bin from behind his desk and a couple of towels from the bathroom.

And if he thought of himself as Rhodey from that day on instead of Jim, well, he never made a big deal out of it.

* * *

''Wait, wait,'' Peter waved his hands as Rhodey finished the story. ''You became friends because you stopped Mister Stark from getting his ass kicked and he threw up all over the floor?''

Tony paused in his ladling of sauce onto a bed of spaghetti to throw his head back and laugh raucously.

''Oh, honeybear,'' he chortled at Rhodey, ''think of all the time you could have just saved yourself. Kid, you’re great. Here,'' Tony slid a heaping plate of food towards Peter and ruffled his hair, ''you’ve earned it.''

''Sounds like you were a real hero that night, Mister Rhodes.''

''I wouldn’t go that far, Pete,'' Rhodey chuckled. ''More like set myself up for aging prematurely due to this needy idiot.’’

''Hey,'' Tony pouted at him, ''everybody needs a Rhodey.''

''Oh, great, and what do I get?'' Rhodey griped, shoving Tony in the shoulder. ''A Tony, lucky me!''

''I’ve got a Ned,'' Peter piped up as Tony advanced on Rhodey with his spoon held high, a deadly grin on his face that did nothing to disguise the overflowing warmth in his eyes. ''He’s my guy in the chair.''

''Always good to have one of those,'' Rhodey affirmed as he dodged Tony’s swing, cackling as a splatter of tomato sauce hit the cupboard. ''Hopefully he’s a damn sight nicer than this assh – hey! That was a cheap shot!''

Peter snorted at their antics, smiling in thanks as Rhodey held a fork out to him while rubbing a smear of sauce off his cheek with his other hand. ''So you guys were good after that night?''

Rhodey glared playfully at the back of Tony’s head. ''Oh, hell no. I made his hungover ass clear the puke out of the carpet and buy me breakfast first. It was about a week before I even realised that I didn’t mind having him around.''

''Please,'' Tony said, leaning his head back to beam at Rhodey whose own grin softened into a fond smile as their eyes met, ''you loved me from the start.''

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3 hit me up on tumblr under the same username if you fancy chatting <3


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